Reality's a Dream, Our Dream
by Wasabi97
Summary: France returns from the meeting, only for something he never EVER expected to happen. Old oneshot, broken into multiple chapters. Rated M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**1**

France unlocked the door. It had been a long day, and as always, the Allies' meeting had been a waste of time. Well, almost. He had gotten to see England. _Ah, Angleterre_, he thought, as he made his way to the shared bedroom. It had five beds, one for each of them. Of course, England had specifically requested, no, demanded, that France's bed be as far from his as possible. He stepped into the room, pausing abruptly when his eyes fell upon a lump in one of the beds. To be exact, England's bed. France sighed. He'd expected to be alone; after all, America, China, and Russia had all gone out partying. But, come to think of it, he hadn't seen England since the meeting.

His blonde hair stuck out from under the sheets. Silence coated the room, broken only by the sound of the two's deep breathing. Frozen in place, France stood by his own bed, watching him. _He still sleeps as he did as a child_, he mused, laying his jacket down on the untouched bedsheets. He plopped down on the mattress. France enjoyed that sensation, when one first lays down on their bed and the blankets puff up around them as their body sinks into the fabric.

A muffled noise escaped from England's side of the room. France cocked his head, wondering if he had heard correctly. It came again, and this time he was sure of it.

"Francis...," England whispered. France slowly rose off his bed. England hadn't moved. _Is he talking in his sleep?_ That was out of the ordinary. In all the years France had known him, he had slept silently.

Hesitantly, he stepped across the wooden floor, hoping the boards wouldn't creak under his feet. As France approached, he noticed England's breathing had become more heavy and ragged.

"F-Francis!" He was practically talking now, eyes still shut tight. A small moan escaped his lips. His fingers clenched his pillow, so much so that his knuckles shone white, even in the dark of the room.

France sat on the edge of England's bed. He almost certainly knew what he was dreaming about, or at least what he hoped he was, but, non, that was impossible. England always treated him coldly whenever others were around. When they were alone, well, the Brit never let that happen in the first place. Even at just a hand on his shoulder, England would whip his head around and smack France's hand away. France pondered the thought. Was it just his imagination, or had England been blushing the last time that had happened?

Suddenly, France gasped, shocked out of his thoughts. He looked down to see a thin, bare arm wrapped around his waist. Glancing curiously at England, he confirmed the question in his mind: he was still asleep. But at this point, France was beginning to doubt that. He brought his legs over the edge of the bed and laid down, or rather, was pushed down with surprising force from a sleeping man's arm. Even more surprising was England pressing his own body against France's side. His face nestled between France's arm and chest, France could hear his uneven breathing even more clearly. He pressed his face to England's shaggy blond hair and inhaled, taking in his scent. _Mmm...tea_, he thought, _likely Earl Gray, his favorite...and something burnt_. He smirked. England's endeavors in the kitchen were the thing of legend, especially when he made scones. He always insisted they were delicious, but everyone agreed that they tasted more like rotting mud and concrete.

France could feel England's slim fingers softly digging into his chest. He may not have known completely what the other was dreaming about, but he knew that England lying there, in his arms like that, was the perfect dream for him, and he didn't ever want to wake up. France brought his hand to England's face, stroking his cheek gently.

"Mmm..." England pulled his body even closer to France's. He was drenched in sweat, and an idea briefly popped into France's head, to remove his own shirt to avoid it getting wet. It was just as quickly evicted; France didn't want to wake him. England's legs tangled in France's and he moaned again. France noticed something hard brush his thigh. _Mon dieu! He's not seriously..._ Before he could stop it, a grin spread across his face. He had to admit it, he was actually enjoying this. England was the only person, man or woman, he had ever truly loved. Of course, there was that girl, Jeanne d'Arc, but that was a different kind of love. She had, after all, saved him in a dark time.

Beside him, England panted and moaned in France's arms, his body tense. He clutched France's chest tightly.

"Ah...ah! Francis! Francis!" At that last cry, England relaxed. His clenched fingers straightened out and he sunk back into the sheets next to France, his arm still lying across his chest. France's eyes widened like saucers as his mind registered a growing wet spot on his leg, right where that particular place on England's body was. Before he had a chance to react though, England awoke.

* * *

_Hello there, Wasabi97 speaking! Ahhhh~ it's been so long! *cough*NOPE*cough* Well, it has for me. This is just a little oneshot I made a while ago, and I figured I might as well post it. I'm dividing it up into multiple chapters because it's ridiculously long, so oh well, here goes nothing!_

_For those of you who know me, this is just one of the very few happy stories I have. I tend to get pretty dark in my writing. Anyways, nice to see you all, and feel free to review and comment! It would be of great help to me._


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

It all happened at once: England's eyes flew open and he swung up into sitting position, only to see a wide-eyed Frenchman staring up at him before plastering himself to the wall and screaming, "What the bloody hell are you doing in my bed you stupid frog?!"

Taking a moment to snap out of his stupor, France sat up. "You should ask yourself, England; after all, you dragged me in."

"I did not!"

"How would you know? You were asleep, anywa-"

"SHUT UP!" England yelled, slamming his hands into the sheets. Momentarily shocked, he turned away sheepishly. "Just...shut up..." _Damn it, I shouldn't have gone to bed before they got back. I knew this would happen_. His olive green eyes shone with rage, but even in the darkness, France knew he was blushing.

Standing up from the bed, France straightened his now-soaked shirt with as much confidence as possible. Of course, he had known that England would wake up at some point, but he couldn't help wishing that it had lasted longer than it did. His first step back to his own bed was interrupted by a sharp tug at his back. France glanced over his shoulder where England gripped the white cloth of his dress shirt.

"Angleterre, I need you to let go now." The words came out harsher than France had expected. He bit his lip. In reality, he didn't want England to let him go. He wanted to pull him close again, to feel his warm breath on his neck, to wrap his arms around his slim body. But most of all, he wanted England to love him back. But that would never happen. France had the impression that he'd hated him, or even loathed him.

"Francis, wait! You still haven't answered my question. And..." _Oh, bloody hell, I'm not even sure I want to know_, "...what happened, anyways? And why do I feel so, so...so odd?"

A smile pranced on the edge of France's lips. "Odd? I'm not exactly sure that's the correct word for it, _mon amie_." France heard the sharp intake of breath behind him. "If you want to know what happened, check your pants. As for why I was in your bed, I repeat: you dragged me in. You were asleep. Now will you ple-"

"Shit!" France's silky blond hair whipped his cheek as he spun around. England's face was a deep shade of scarlet and his eyes were wide with shock. It seemed to France that he had discovered the answer to his question.

"England?"

England didn't answer at first, just pushed him aside awkwardly and started walking to the bathroom.

"I'm going to...wash up a bit," he said, as he flicked on the light and shut the door with a bang.

* * *

_Oh Iggs, such a tsundere! (/w/)_

_So what did you think? Reviews and comments appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

As soon as he was inside, England locked himself in. He buried his face in his hands, digging the tips of his fingers into his hair. _Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated?_

Reluctantly, he removed his soaked clothing and stepped into the shower's cool water. He needed to think.

_It almost seems like every time I want to show Francis how I feel, it backfires. Why do I have to be so cold to him, dammit? I hate this!_ He slammed his fists on the shower wall. It was easy to let the tears flow here. _And because of that, he probably thinks I hate him. I wish...I wish I was less like myself. Maybe then I would do something right for once. I see him all the time and I don't say anything I mean to and I-I-I feel like I'm dying inside!_

Water cascaded down England's shaking back. _I wish I could stop loving him, but I can't. I wish I could just end it all._

* * *

_SHORT CHAPTER IS SHORT. *dies*_

_Man, he's overly dramatic._

_Reviews & comments appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

"England has been in the shower for quite some time now," France mumbled to himself, pushing himself up off the edge of his bed. It had been over an hour since England had started the water, and he was beginning to get worried.

"I'd better go check on him." He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked. The only sound coming from inside was the running water. He tried again.

"England? Are you alright?" There was still no answer. France slowly reached down for the doorknob, but found it to be locked.

_Oh no_. "England? England, answer me!" France began to grow anxious. _Why isn't he answering?!_ He shook the doorknob, but to no avail. Thumping a fist on the door, he yelled again, "England, say something, please!" When no reply came, he sharply twisted the doorknob as far as it would go and slammed his body against the door. Stumbling into the bathroom, a wave of humidity crashed over him.

"Angleterre?" Hesitantly, France inched towards the shower. He slowly peered around the green curtain to see England sitting on the floor under the water, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head buried in his knees. France couldn't help but sigh in relief. He reached over to turn off the water, earning an annoyed mutter from England, and threw him a clean towel.

"You're going to prune up if you stay in there any longer, _mon amie_," he said, wrapping the towel around England's hunched shoulders. "Come on, get up." There wasn't even the slightest hint of annoyance in France's voice. He grabbed the other's slim arm and helped him into standing position. England still didn't say anything, just stared at the floor. As France walked towards the door again, though, he opened his mouth.

"Why do you care so much about me anyways, Francis?"

France paused momentarily in the doorway before turning and saying simply, "Because I love you." He shut the door behind him, leaving England standing speechless on the bathroom floor.

* * *

_That is SOME answer. Heh, what would you do if someone said that to you?_

_Reviews and commentarios!_


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

When England finally stepped out of the bathroom, he found his pants and briefs soaking in a sink of soapy water. He cringed. _Ugh, thanks for making this even more awkward for me, Francis._ Sighing, he wrapped his arms around his waist, gripping the button-down shirt tightly. He couldn't get France out of his head ever since he had left the bathroom. The last thing he'd said was a nonchalant, but serious, "I love you". _Dammit, why did he have to go and say that? Now what am I going to do?_ A sudden spark of realization went off in his head and he quickly pulled his shirt down.

"Bloody hell, that's just great." His pants were in the sink, meaning he couldn't wear them, and the only other clothes he had were in his suitcase, under his bed, which France's now-sleeping head was resting upon.

_Okay, I could always go grab it...wait, there is no way; that would mean waking up Francis and I refuse to let him see me like this._ He looked down and gulped.

"Damn, it looks like I'll have to go to bed like this." _If only that stupid frog had fallen asleep on his own side of the room._

Glaring at the Frenchman, he yanked the shirt down as far as it would go, took a deep breath, and tiptoed across the floor to his bed. Then he stopped. Against his better judgment, England knelt next to France and softly stroked his sleeping face, feeling his stubble underneath his fingertips.

"He looks so peaceful," England whispered. "Good night, Francis." He put an arm on the mattress to steady himself as he stood, but paused. As if on second thought, he brushed France's hair away from his closed eyes.

"I wish you knew that I love you back," he whispered, leaning in and lightly kissing his forehead.

"I do know, Angleterre."

England quickly withdrew, frozen by France's now open, beautiful blue eyes. He was drawn in before he could stop it.

France's lips crashed into England's like a wave, fitting perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece. They moved together, in perfect sync. France held England's face close to his own while England's slim fingers twisted into his silky blond hair. He turned his body, pushing him into the side of the bed, letting a small moan escape from England's lips. Their kisses becoming more and more passionate, England could feel the edge of the bedframe digging into his back, but he didn't care. France leaned in closer. Only then did England gasp, shocked back to his senses as France's knee brushed between his thighs. He quickly retracted his arms and pushed France away.

"England, what's wrong?" France gazed questioningly at him.

"What the hell was that for?!"

_Mon dieu, here he goes again._ "What do you mean, 'What was that for'? You kissed me back, you know."

"I did not!" It was an obvious lie, and England knew it. France reached over and cupped his chin in his hand, grinning slyly.

"Prove it then."

"How the hell am I supposed to-"

"Kiss me, and if it feels different, I'll know I was imagining things." England's cheeks were crimson.

"There is NO WAY I'm kissing you!"

France cocked his head teasingly. "Then I'll just have to assume you did."

"No!" Even as he said it, France could see his resistance breaking.

_Oh bloody hell, why did I ever..._

"...Fine, dammit..."

"What did you say, England?"

"I said fine, I'll do it. But don't try anything perverted or I will hurt you."

France put his hands up in mock surrender. "Yes, sir."

Eyebrows scrunched, England slowly leaned forward. His breath tickled France's cheeks. His entire body filled with warmth as England's quivering lips connected with his own. It only seemed to last a moment, though, before he pulled away, blushing.

"See, you were imagining it," he mumbled, quickly scrambling up onto his bed.

France smirked. In a flash of movement, he had England's slim body pinned underneath his own.

"Liar." He gazed into England's wide eyes and kissed his nose softly.

* * *

_And so it begins. SMEX IN NEXT CHAPTER, JUST WARNING YOU NOW. X3_

_Reviews and comments!_


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

"Francis?" England was quickly silenced by France's wet lips. Every last ounce of resistance he had left melted away into the night. He ran his one free hand through the other's long hair, letting it rest at the nape of his neck. The opposite hand's fingers intertwined with France's. _His lips are soft_, he thought absentmindedly, immersing himself in the bliss that was Francis. They fit together so perfectly, so wonderfully, it was hard to believe they had ever been apart. France lightly nibbled his lower lip and England gasped involuntarily, letting the Frenchman's tongue slip into his mouth.

France broke away momentarily, and England whined in protest before slapping his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. A small chuckle escaped France's lips. He leaned down, whispering "_Désolé_, I just can't wait anymore, Arthur."

England's eyes widened, the blush on his cheeks darkening. _He...he used my name..._

As if reading his mind, France added, "Don't be so surprised, _mon cher_, you call me by my name all the time." His lips pressed against the tender flesh of England's neck, trailing kisses down to his collar as he slid a hand up his waist, under the hem of the shirt.

"A-ah!" Tracing cold lines up his waist, his fingers gently painted spirals on his chest. France reached down to palm his cock, stroking gently, and with a few deft movements, had it standing. Quickly, he removed his pants, releasing his already hardened member as England fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He slid the white cloth off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed and leaned down, continuing the kiss where they'd left off. England's slim fingers wound through his golden hair, drawing him closer. The simple gesture sent a wave of excitement through France's body, and he was tempted to take him right then, but _non_, he still had to prepare him. His fingers trailed down to England's entrance.

"Don't." England swatted his hand away.

Raising an eyebrow, France reminded him, "If I don't prepare you it's going to hurt. You _have_ done this before, right?"

"…"

_Mon dieu._

"…Arthur…Have you…are you…?" France tried to find England's face, but he'd buried it in a pillow, completely obscuring his view. Lifting a corner, he tried again. "Are you…still a virgin?"

Muttering into the pillow, Francis could barely make out a weak, "…shut up…"

He delivered a quick kiss to Arthur's nose. "It's not a bad thing…that just means it'll hurt just a little bit more and feel a lot better."

"You still don't need to prep me."

"If you insist, but don't tell me I didn't warn you."

The Englishman finally turned to face him, his cheeks stained a dark red. "I can handle it…"

"Are you sure about this, Arthur?"

"Please, just do it already…" Quivering ever so slightly, England wrapped his arms around France, resting his hands along his spine.

"Only if you say my name…"

"Francis—"

"A a aa~h!" France shook his head in mock disapproval. "You have to say it in French!"

"Fuck you…"

"That doesn't sound like French to me, _mon petit lapin_." He quickly gave himself a few strokes, hoping his precum would act as some sort of lubricant. _I don't want his first time to be too painful…_

Unable to look him in the eyes, England pressed his cheek into the pillow again. "_François, s'il te plait, baise moi, je suis en train de mourir là!_"

France blinked. Had he heard that correctly? _Francis…please, fuck me already, I'm dying over here!_ His accent had been perfect, the words flowing over his tongue like silk. France was speechless. "Arthur…you speak French?!"

England frowned, blurting out, "_Oui, depuis que je suis enfant. Maintenant tais-toi et concentre toi sur ta tâche à accomplir__._"

Stroking England's face lightly, he chuckled to himself, leaning down and giving him a chaste kiss. "_Bien, bien, je sais._" He positioned himself carefully before slowly pushing in.

"A-ahh, nnghAHHHH! _Francis_!" England screamed into his chest, nails digging into France's back. Pain jolted up his spine. He'd known it was going to hurt, but not _that_ much.

England's pained moan startled France a bit more than he'd thought it would. He panicked, praying to God that he hadn't torn anything. "_Angleterre_, are you alright? Do you want me to take it out?"

"N–no! I'm…I'm fine," England managed to gasp out, the pang in his arse fading into a dull ache. "You can move now, if you want."

France complied, thrusting slowly as England dug his fingers into his back. He purposely forced himself slightly deeper with each push, trying to find his prostrate; he wanted to make England feel good as soon as possible.

"_Mon dieu, _Arthur…"

"NNAAAH!" England threw his head back, white lights bursting across his vision when France hit his prostrate dead on. The pleasure was unimaginably thrilling, a hundred times better than anything he'd ever felt. His back arched up into France's chest so that they were skin to skin and France held him there, his thrusts hitting the same spot over and over again.

"Fr–Francis! I think I—I'm close! Oh God!"

"_Oui, et moi aussi_," France replied, accidentally slipping into his native tongue in the heat of the moment. Clutching England's body close to his own, their heartbeats seemed to meld into one.

In one final surge of pleasure, England released, screaming his name, followed by France only seconds after. Their sweaty bodies collapsed onto the bed. They gazed into eachother's eyes, taking in the moment before falling asleep in eachother's arms.

* * *

_So, how was that? This just so happens to be the first legitimate *smex* scene I've ever written, so if you've got any suggestions, please let me know._

_I HAVE TO WAKE UP AT FIVE TOMORROW. *is now 1:57 D8_

_I REGRET NOTHING._

_Translations:_

_Désolé- Sorry_

_Mon petit lapin- My little rabbit/bunny (either one)_

___François, s'il te plait, baise moi, je suis en train de mourir là!_- _Francis…please, fuck me already, I'm dying over here!_

_Oui, depuis que je suis enfant. Maintenant tais-toi et concentre toi sur ta tâche à accomplir__- Yes, since I was a child. __Now shut up and concentrate on the task at hand._

_Bien, bien, je sais- Okay, okay, I know_

_Oui, et moi aussi- Yes, me too_

_If any of this is wrong, let me know and I'll change it._

_Comment & Review, my lovelies!_


	7. Chapter 7

"Holy SHIT! Dudes, check it, it's England and France!"

Their eyes flew open to see a stunned America staring down at them.

England sat up first, screaming. "WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL ARE YOU—"

Clasping a hand over England's mouth, France whispered in his ear, "Arthur, you realize you're just drawing more attention to the situation, right?"

"AIYAH!"

They all turned to see China fleeing the room as quickly as possible, slamming the door behind him. Everyone could hear him desperately trying to justify Russia _not_ entering the room, while Russia's voice echoed from the hallway, "I'm tired and I want more vodka. Do not get in my way, da?"

America, France, and England all had the same horrified look painted on their faces.

In a span of a few moments, England shoved France off his bed, shrieking "Go go go go go go!" as France ran as fast as he could back to his own. Yanking America down by the collar, he hissed in his ear "If you, or anyone else, _dare_ to tell anyone what you saw, I swear to God, Alfred, the _entire_ world will know what you did with Russia three days ago at that nightclub."

The American nodded quickly, biting his lip, before darting to the bathroom to hide.

France and England glanced at eachother from across the room, sharing a secret smile, before a sudden crash and the door fell off its hinges.

* * *

_SHORT CHAPTER IS SHORT._

_But._

_I have finally finished this and it makes me happy. X3 (It had better; I stayed up til 2:20 getting this thing done!)_

_Also, I've decided to take requests, any pairing, **BUT**...I can only take three. Just leave the pairing, type (IE fluff, smut, friendship, AU, etc etc, you know the drill), and any other specifications. Comment fast, because only the first three will be picked! I'll be writing those between updating '_Endless Soul',_ which, by the way, is SO getting a title change because it sucks pretty badly..._

_Anyways._

_Comment and Review, and I'll see you later with a new story!_


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